I enjoy writing. Always have. I took a creative writing course in college and had a great deal of fun, especially with poetry. Fun does not necessarily translate into good, so I apologize in advance. I’m not the type to subject my poetry on others, but when I ran across this poem that I must have written in a desperate moment, I’m guessing about three years ago (based on the Wubbzy reference), I thought it might resonate with others going through similar desperate moments.
A neurological disorder…
Something not quite
right. Speech delay
Speech therapy, Occupational
therapy (hypersensitive, hyposensitive,
Gross motor – Gross like large not like
yucky, fine motor) From flashcards
to reading two years ahead
Obsess, obsess, Obsession
for months (Pizza rolls every single
night for dinner) (Wubbzy AGAIN?)
laughing, joking, never gets
old. Still no empathy.
Logical, linear, Spock-like, must
follow the rules, follow the law, follow the
schedule. No deviation, no changes, no
surprises, no fire drills or we derail.
anticipate, anticipate, anticipate
lay the clothes out, take the meds, follow the
schedule. Nothing dirty, no holes, no stains,
hide the clothes when they get too small. Still
might come back to bite you,
kick you, pull your hair, scream, cry, lie
down in the middle of the aisle
suffer the stares, the whispers, the grandma shaking her head, “Mm, mm, mm.”
(must learn that Vulcan death grip – what happens
when he gets bigger?)
What happens next? One day
One day at a time, one day
Breathe, exhale and relax.